You Burn Too Bright
by withthecherrytrees
Summary: The whispers started a few minutes after Althea landed on the base at D'Qar. It's possible that the handcuffs and guns pointed at her back didn't help with that.
1. In Which Mercenaries are Captured

**_ALTHEA_**

The whispers started a few minutes after Althea landed on the base at D'Qar. It's possible that the handcuffs and guns pointed at her back didn't help with that.

It wasn't her fault, really, that she was hired to take out a couple Resistance pilots. It's not as if Althea worked for the First Order, she just worked for whoever offered the largest pile of cash. And it was really not her fault that the First Order happened to be extremely well funded, and particularly inclined to offer her large piles of cash. If the Resistance couldn't afford to hire the mercenaries out from under their enemies, well then that was really not her problem.

But still, she shouldn't have gotten caught. She was stupid, and in a rush, and neglected to check whether or not that fucker from the Guavian Death Gang had actually disabled her targeting system like he had threatened he would. In all honesty, his reaction was a bit dramatic, given that she had only shot him in the leg.

Althea had been so close, cloaked behind the leader of the dagger squadron, when she realized that she couldn't target the ship. The split second of her confusion was all it took for another member of the Resistance squad to fire at Althea, hit her ship's tail, and send her spiraling towards the ground. It was all she could do to make the crash landing.

They had followed her to the ground, and now she was their fucking prisoner.

She hated the self-righteous pompousness she saw in their eyes, the disgust with which they treated her. It's not as if they didn't kill, as if they didn't kick and scratch and claw at the universe to survive. She just happened to not have any delusions of moral superiority.

That's why she was here, now, on the fucking tarmac of the Resistance, with her hands and legs shackled, and being marched along to the detention center.

They tossed Althea unceremoniously inside, her injured leg and broken ribs shrieking when she stumbled and hit the opposite wall.

The leader of the squad that had captured her, and her original target, Lieutenant Mako, spared her a withering glare as he turned to leave. "How you mercenaries can live with yourselves is beyond me," he spat at her.

Althea spat back, and smirked when Mako jumped backwards to avoid it.

Mako motioned to the guards on either side of her cell, and they snapped to attention, tightening their grips on their blasters. "Watch her," Mako ordered, and he stalked out of the dim hallway.

Surveying her surroundings, Althea noted that the Resistance certainly did not make the same effort to make everything dark and ominous as the First Order did. For kriff's sake, she even had a window — was the Resistance even trying? She smiled. This was going to be easy. It was a good thing, since she had about two weeks left before her scheduled check in with the First Order's payment delivery. They had been generous with the time frame when contracting her for this hit, and Althea had gotten lucky with how quickly she had found intel on the dagger squadron's next planned run.

When Althea was little, her aunt Raile had told her once that her plots were written on her face: pursed lips, and an almost diabolically knowing glint her eyes. Althea made sure to face away from her guards as she contemplated her escape.

Getting out of the cell would be easy, but stealing a ship and getting off planet would be the hard part.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of indignant footsteps resonating down the hallway. Althea glanced at her guards from her position in the corner, and noted their apprehension, and the way they stood straighter. _Someone important_ , she thought.

She was right. General Organa slowed, and stopped in front of Althea's cell, accompanied by a stern looking Poe Dameron. Organa was famous throughout the galaxies, and Althea recognized her instantly. But Dameron she recognized from an earlier First Order contract briefing, where Althea had been given specific instructions to _take him out_. She had failed, however, and she'd payed dearly for that.

Neither Organa nor Dameron looked very happy with her, although that was to be expected. From her moderately comfortable place in the corner, Althea spared the duo a glance from beneath her lashes.

In the end, Organa spoke first. "So, you're the mercenary."

"It would certainly appear so, wouldn't it." Althea drawled. "Although, it's really more of a hobby."

Dameron's jaw set, and took a small step forward, one that was immediately thwarted by Organa extending her slight hand.

Organa spoke again. "Who hired you? Who were you sent to kill?"

Althea was silent.

"We'll find out everything, even if you give us nothing," Organa warned, her voice ever pleasant.

Althea smiled sweetly at her. "Well why don't you get started on that."

Organa studied her, so intently that Althea began to feel the urge to shift in her seat. Althea relaxed a little when the pair turned to leave, but tensed again when Dameron ground out, "How do you sleep at night?"

Althea cocked her head in mock consideration. "Usually horizontally, what about you?"

She knew she was pushing her luck, but she was so cross with herself about getting caught that she couldn't bite back her sarcasm. Luckily for her, Organa urged Dameron out of the hallway, and away from her.

 _I have time,_ Althea reminded herself. _I_ _have time to get out of here before the First Order realizes I failed. She's going to be okay, they're not going to find her_ , she reminded herself _._ Althea settled into her corner, and busied herself with plans of escape.

Organa came back the next day, looking as unruffled and elegant as ever, as if everything was just as she had planned it and nothing unexpected would ever come before her. Althea had to give the woman credit for exuding that air of infallible composure, and the elaborate braided crown.

Organa stood before Althea's cell, and a guard placed a small chair against the opposite wall.

Althea scoffed. "You planning on keeping me company, General?"

Organa didn't look up from her notepad. "Are you working for the First Order, Althea?"

Althea's breath caught in her throat. _They know who I am_ , she thought. She could have kicked herself. _Of course they know who you are_. _They have your fucking ship you fucking laserbrain_. Still, she swallowed, and said, "What makes you think that?"

At this, Organa deigned to look at Althea. "The data pad with contracts from the First Order to take out my Dagger squadron."

"Well, why the fuck are you still asking me?"

"I wanted to give you the chance to tell me yourself."

Althea let out a breath. "Why would you care?"

Organa made a non committal noise, and continued to study her data pad. After a moment, she asked, "How old is your sister? Delia, right?"

Althea froze. Voice hoarse, she forced out, "What?"

Organa glanced up. "Delia, your sister on Dantooine. How old is she?"

"How— how do you—"

"The Resistance has eyes everywhere, Althea. We know about your sister, and we know you have information about the First Order. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting." With that, Organa rose and briskly exited the hallway.

Althea sat, breathing shallowly. Her slender hands wrung together. _I_ _have to get to Delia,_ she thought.

 ** _POE_**

"I'm sorry General, but you want to do _what?"_ Poe was sure he hadn't heard right.

General Leia looked at him blankly. "I believe I was very clear with what I said. I want to hire her."

Poe sputtered, walking around the console. "But, but she's a mercenary for the First Order! And you want to hire her?"

The General nodded. "Exactly. Althea Perrim is a mercenary, Poe. She's not a soldier for the First Order. She's not loyal to them, or anyone. But we can make her loyal to us. We've gathered intel on her these past couple days, from the files recovered from her ship. She's a regular contract for the First Order — any asset we can take away from the First Order is a win."

Poe shook his head, and insisted, "But then why hire her? Just lock her up. She's a threat, a risk to us! How can we ever trust her?"

General Leia nodded, and said, "Her sister. Delia Perrim, age 11, living on Dantooine. Althea may not be loyal to anyone, but she loves her sister, and we can use that." The General looked around at Poe, Major Brance, and Admiral Ackbar, indignant, skeptical, and dubious, respectively.

She went on. "Right now, Althea has failed her mission to the First Order, but her scheduled check in is still two weeks away. We can bring in Delia, protect her from the First Order, and use her as leverage for Althea's cooperation. We can send Althea to that meeting, and have her gather intelligence for us. She could be our double agent."

"Do you think Perrim will cooperate just for her sister? These mercenary types, they don't care about anything but cash." Major Brance said.

Turning to Brance, the General responded, "I saw Perrim's reaction when I asked her about Delia. She cares. She'll cooperate."

 _This is crazy_ , thought Poe. Hiring a First Order mercenary into the Resistance, and trusting that familial relations would keep that fucking mercenary from selling them out. "General, with all due respect, this is a bad idea. She'll sell us out as soon as a better offer flies her way."

"That's what the sister is for, Dameron, insurance. And we need her. Our ranks are thin enough as it is. Now come with me. We're making Perrim the offer."

They walked side by side through the dim hallway, until they reached Perrim's cell. Poe's stomach turned at the sight of the woman, a girl really, curled up in the corner. He suspected her hair was blonde, but the dirt and grime from the crash and her imprisonment had rendered it a dull brown. Her slim hands clutched her side — her ribs were most likely broken from the crash, and the fight she had put up before being captured. Apparently it had taken the whole squadron to subdue her.

At their approach, Perrim opened her sunken eyes. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" She croaked, her voice hoarse.

"We want to hire you," General Leia said simply. Behind her, Poe clenched his jaw.

Perrim blinked. "I have to say, that's not what I was expecting to hear today. But I'm interested. How much cash are you offering?"

"None."

"None?"

"That's what I said. None."

Perrim snorted, and said, "Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel special."

"I was thinking more along the lines of something to do with Delia," The General said, studying Perrim's face.

At this, Perrim clenched her fists, and the ever-present look of contempt vanished. When she leaned forward, Poe's hand settled on his blaster.

"So help me, if you do anything to Delia, you will wish you were dead."

General Leia smiled. "That's nice to hear, but we don't want to hurt Delia. Since you've failed your mission, the First Order is likely to send someone after you when you miss your check in date. When they inevitably can't find you, they'll go after Delia, won't they?"

Perrim bit her lip and looked away.

"I thought so. Althea, the Resistance is not the First Order. We don't harm innocents. In exchange for your cooperation, we will protect Delia. We can send a squadron to Dantooine, and bring her to a Resistance base to be cared for in safety. You will work for us — you'll be our double agent. You're a skilled fighter, Althea. Your talents are wasted in a cell."

Poe could see Perrim considering the offer, despite herself.

Finally, she seemed to sag in on herself a little. "For how long?"

The General smiled. "I think three years sounds fair, doesn't it? Given that you've stolen supplies, destroyed bases, and even tried to take out a squadron yesterday." Poe's jaw set when he was reminded of Perrim's deeds. _She's a criminal_ , he thought, and his mouth filled with a bitter taste at the thought of being in her proximity for three years.

Perrim nodded, and ground out a reply. "Fine. Under one condition: Delia comes _here._ "

General Leia agreed, and motioned to the guards to open the cell. "You'll be under guard at all times, Althea. Don't think that I'm so stupid as to think you won't try and escape. I know what you're capable of. Six guards at all times, and you will be granted access to only a few areas of the base. But, we can discuss all that at another time. As for now, the guards will take you to the medical bay to get your injuries looked at."

Poe watched Perrim struggle to stand while clutching her injured ribs, his hand still on his blaster in case she made any sudden motions. The knowledge that she would effectively be a part of the Resistance made his skin crawl. When the General motioned for him to follow her, he was glad to leave Perrim's vicinity.

He looked over his shoulder to see her limping down the hallway in the other direction, towards the medical bay, surrounded by her squadron of armed guards. All of the guards pointed their blasters her way. Poe wondered just how dangerous the General thought this mercenary was. He hadn't seen their intel on her, only briefly heard of her many missions to take out Resistance bases.

When Poe and General Leia reached the command room, she turned to him. The General looked at him intently. "Dameron, I know you do not approve of this course of action, but we cannot pass up the opportunity that Althea Perrim represents in the fight against the First Order. She's highly skilled and can give us valuable intelligence. But I want you to watch her. Get as much information out of her as you can, and watch her for any sort of planning of an escape. We can't have her back in the hands of the First Order, not when she's seen the base here on D'Qar."

"Yes, General." Poe nodded his assent, stomach sinking as he did so. _This is going to go horribly wrong_ , he thought.

 ** _ALTHEA_**

Althea could feel eyes on her. It was an uncomfortable feeling, she was used to blending into shadows and dark corners. Being stared at made her skittish. When she and her far too heavily armed entourage passed through a hallway where she could see the tarmac, she ached to take out her guards, steal a ship, fly to Delia, and hide them both far, far away. So far away that the Resistance and the First Order would never find them, and they would carve out a life together. Maybe on an Outer Rim territory, with a farm, and animals, just like Delia had always wanted.

Althea didn't see the point of pets. They just slowed you down when you had to run.

She knew she could take the guards, but getting across the tarmac in broad daylight without being shot down, and stealing a ship was impossible, even for her.

She kept walking.

In the medical bay, a tight-lipped older woman introduced herself as Dr. Kalonia. Althea got the distinct impression that Dr. Kalonia was friendly, just not to people like her. By that she meant people who were contracted by the First Order.

The anesthesia was a sweet relief from the agony of the past two days, her broken ribs and injured leg fading to dull numbness. The bacta patches were cool on her various wounds, and Althea felt the drugs take hold, her eyes drifting shut, still aware of the six guards posted around her bed and at her door.

When she opened her eyes, Althea was greeted by the more than unexpected sight of Poe Dameron watching her from the chair in the corner.

"Morning sunshine." She smirked in satisfaction when his brows knitted together at her words.

"It's actually the afternoon," he bluntly replied. "The drugs have kept you under for a day."

Althea surveyed the room, noting the handcuffs that chained her to the bed, and that the guards had moved to stand outside of the room. "Well, I feel rested. I don't know about you, but missions always tire me out." She studied Dameron's face, the way his jaw set whenever she spoke. "So, what does the illustrious General Organa have planned for me today?"

Dameron eyed her steadily. "You're going to tell me about your time on the First Order base."

Althea swallowed. "There's really not much to tell."

"Tell me anyways."

She glared at him. He glared back. Althea noted how irritatingly tousled his black hair was. "I failed a mission. They brought me in, and, well, _expressed their displeasure._ "

Dameron glanced down. "What was the mission?"

"You," she replied, refusing to look away. _I am not ashamed_ , she reminded herself "I was sent to kill you when you were on a supply mission to Coruscant. You had a meeting with a smuggler in a tavern, I was supposed to take you out there, but the place was raided by Coruscant enforcers. You got away."

Althea realized Dameron was staring at her, his mouth having fallen open slightly. She frowned, and spat out, "Why do you look so surprised? Your name is all over First Order contract lists. They have a price on your head, and it's rising every day. They want you gone."

Dameron blinked, and cleared his throat. "What happened after the tavern?"

"They found me," Althea snapped. "They brought me to a base — I don't know on which planet, but it was in the Outer Rim — and they hurt me." She let out a short breath. "General Hux, mostly."

"How long did you spend on the base?"

"Three weeks, I think. I don't remember most of it."

"What did they do to you?" Dameron asked quietly.

At that, Althea looked up, into his eyes, which seemed to have softened the slightest bit. Innerly, she recoiled from the memory of the base, of Hux's machines. "How the fuck is that relevant, Dameron?"

Whatever softness may have entered Dameron's eyes quickly left it again, and he stood to leave.

"Wait," Althea called. He turned, regarding her with hostility. She shuffled in her bed. "Has the General sent a squadron for Delia?"

Dameron paused, before responding. "The General sent two pilots out this morning. They should have Delia back her by tomorrow." He stalked out of the medical bay room before she could reply.

Althea huffed. _Uptight Resistance asshole._ She winced at the thought of spending three years in close contact with people who hated everything about her. Pulling up her shirt, she examined the bruising on her side. The skin was sallow, with deep black and blue marks, and scrapes from crawling out of her ship's hatch. Probing the wounds gently, her angular features contorted in pain.

"I would leave them alone to heal, if I were you." Dr. Kalonia spoke up, regarding Althea from doorway with condescension. The anesthetic must have subdued Althea's normally keen senses, if someone was able to sneak up on her.

Without looking up, or removing her hand from the wounds, Althea muttered back, "Thank you for the insightful medical advice."

Dr. Kalonia did not even blink, striding forward instead to take up residence in the chair Dameron had abandoned. She crossed her legs and pulled out a data pad, typing some things on the screen. "I need to answer some questions about your medical history, for you profile in our database."

"Go right ahead."

"In the crash and ensuing fight yesterday, you received a concussion, along with three broken ribs and a blaster wound to your leg. I need to log other times that you have been concussed."

Althea's brow knitted together. "I honestly couldn't say. This is the first time I've been to a doctor."

Dr. Kalonia finally reacted. "You've _never_ been to a doctor before? What about when you've been injured?"

"I usually just stitch myself up, or someone does it for me. There was one time, I took a blaster shot to the back, they brought me to a local healer and she took care of it."

"Who brought you?"

"The people I was working with."

Dr. Kalonia insisted, "Who?"

Althea hedged, "I think they were part of the Guavian Death Gang." It was a lie, the person the First Order had hired to transport her body off the base had noticed she was still alive, and taken pity on her. He'd brought her to Maz on Takodana, and she'd spent weeks there recovering. Hux's machines had really done a number on her.

Either the drugs and concussion had made Althea a bad liar, or Dr. Kalonia was unusually perceptive, because it did not seem like the good doctor believed Althea. But thankfully, she let the subject drop.

"How long have you been working as a…"

"Mercenary? Since I was eleven, so for twelve years now."

Much like Dameron earlier, Dr. Kalonia's mouth hung slightly open. "You started when you were eleven?"

Althea nodded, barging ahead. "Yes. My sister and I, we needed the money. There was a contract for hire on Dantooine, and I knew how to kill a man, so I offered my services."

Dr. Kalonia's interrogation finished quickly, Althea not having ever taken the care to make not her injuries, and so having very little to tell the woman. She could feel her eyes drifting shut when the doctor refilled the bag of anesthetics, the cold numbness welcome in her aching limbs and pounding head. Althea did not remember ever having been in this much pain, except during her time on the First Order base.

She relaxed, and let the darkness take her. _Delia will be here soon_.


	2. In Which Sisters are Returned

**_POE_**

Poe left the medical bay with a cloud of frustration hanging over him. People in the halls moved quickly out of their commander's way, surprised at the loss of his usually friendly demeanor.

He was furious, with Perrim, with the General for trusting Perrim, and even with himself. Back there, in the medical bay, when she had spoken about Hux and her torture _(it was torture, no matter what words she used to describe it)_ , it had seemed for a moment that the blame maybe did not lie so squarely on her defiant back. Poe had seen how her shoulders sank in on themselves, just barely, and how the shadow crossed her face. For a second, he had found the barest shred of pity rise up inside him.

She'd met his eyes, green had met brown, and then she had ruined it by returning to her usual caustic tone. Any feelings towards her that amounted to anything less than pure contempt had vanished instantaneously.

In the mess hall, Pava caught up to him, tugging on his arm and her furrowed brow writing the concern over her face. "How did it go with the mercenary?"

Poe's anger lost its breath. He sighed, and sank onto a nearby bench, Pava next to him. He rubbed his large hand over face, and through his hair. "She… I don't know. I didn't find out that much. She just vaguely described her time on the First Order base, but I left soon after that. I — I did find out one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"She was sent to kill me, about a year ago, when I was on the recon mission to Coruscant. Do you remember that one? The enforcers shut down the tavern, and I just barely got out. She was sent there by the First Order, to kill me."

Pava stared at him, incredulous. She suddenly leapt up, pacing with fury. "A woman who previously was hired to _kill_ you, is now hired by the General to be a part of our Resistance?! She should be locked up for her crimes, not offered a three year contract!"

Poe reached out a placating hand. "I know, Pava, I know. I don't like it either. But the General ordered this, and we have to trust her judgement. But believe me, if that mercenary steps a toe out of line, I'm getting rid of her myself."

Pava nodded, still fuming to herself.

Rising from his seat on the bench, Poe nodded to Pava, remarking as he left, "I have some repairs to make on the X-Wing."

As soon as he stepped onto the tarmac, under the evening air and setting sun of the jungle planet D'Qar, Poe breathed easy. The tight feeling in his chest that had arisen two days ago when that fucker of a human being stepped onto the Resistance base relaxed.

When he approached the black X-Wing, BB-8 rolled up to him, whistling with delight at his master's presence. "Hey, BB-8, how are you buddy?"

BB-8 squeaked and beeped, rocking back and forth.

"I know, I know. I should have come here earlier, but I've been real busy with something the General asked me to do."

Just as BB-8 was inquiring as to _what, precisely, the General had ordered that was so much more important than himself_ , Poe craned his neck to watch a small shuttle land, accompanied by an X-wing.

The bridge of the shuttle slid downward, and out walked Lieutenant Mako in his orange flight suit. Poe watched Mako turn, and extend his hand to coax someone out onto the tarmac. _Delia_ , Poe guessed.

He was right. She was a slip of a girl, really. Since when had eleven year olds gotten so small? She held her arms tightly around her middle, and took halting, nervous steps, looking for all the world like a lost foal. Mako bent over her, gently urging her along and into the base.

Signaling to BB-8 that he should come along, Poe turned and strode back into the base, following Mako and the little girl.

Upon entering the Command Room, he saw Delia perched on a chair with an rough-looking blanket over her shoulders. Mako and General Leia were in deep conversation, while a nervous C-3PO awkwardly patted Delia's shoulder. "There, there, little one. No need to be frightened," the droid stammered.

Poe cleared his throat, alerting the room to his presence.

"Ah, Commander Dameron, good that you're here." The General motioned him over.

"I was out on the tarmac and saw Lieutenant Mako arrive with the girl. How was the mission to Dantooine?" Poe addressed Mako, looking at the stocky man expectantly.

Mako hesitated. "The recovery mission went as expected. The girl was not in any danger upon our arrival. She was living with a farmer and his wife. Apparently Perrim sends money every month to pay for her sister's keep."

Poe blinked. He still could not conflate the image of the ruthless mercenary with the one of the loving sister. Two halves of different wholes.

General Leia broke in, ending the short silence. "It appears though, that we missed a key detail in our investigation."

"What's that?" Poe questioned.

Like Mako before her, General Leia hesitated, looking furtively at the tiny girl on the chair, who was currently attempting to shove away C-3PO's offer of a second blanket.

"It appears that the girl is unaware of her sister's, how shall I say, _profession_. When Lieutenant Mako asked Delia about Althea, Delia seemed to believe that Althea was working as a merchant on the core planets." Even the General seemed fatigued by the idea of revealing Althea's true nature to the little girl.

For what felt like the thousandth time in the day, Poe sighed. "What did you tell her, Mako, about why you were there?"

"I told Delia that her sister was staying with the Resistance for a while. That Althea had asked for Delia to come live with her. I didn't think that I should tell her what Althea really is, or why she's here."

The General nodded. "You made the right call, Lieutenant. Thank you."

Mako nodded, accepting the thanks, and the implied dismissal. He turned on his boot heel and left the Command Room, sparing a sympathetic glance at Delia.

Poe and the General turned to Delia, noting that C-3PO had apparently given up in his quest to comfort, and was standing at a safe distance, looking vaguely concerned. BB-8 had rolled to the duo and was currently whistling softly, offering the girl his own brand of comfort and conversation. Poe doubted that she understood Astro-Mech, but the annoyed expression had softened slightly in the presence of the less intrusive droid.

The girl tucked a strand of short, blonde hair behind her ear. The hair, and the eyes, left Poe no doubt that she and Perrim were related.

"Where's my sister?" Delia asked in a small, hesitant voice. Her eyes were circles, and she shifted on her seat, tugging the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Poe glanced at General Leia, unsure of what to say.

"Your sister is with the doctor right now, Delia. She's been hurt, and needs to rest. But don't worry, you can see her soon." Softness filled the General's voice, and Poe was sharply reminded of the fact that she did in fact have a son, and a brother. She would be acquainted with the way the heart shrinks and swells, opens and closes, in tandem with the distance between family.

Delia remained unconvinced, and her eyes became wider, if that was even possible. "Is Althea going to be okay?"

General Leia nodded, smiling. "Yes, Althea is going to be just fine. She's sleeping now, but I can take you to go see her." She held out her hand, but the only girl clutched the blanket.

Delia nodded, her face taking on a less miserable and frightened look. She kept the blanket curled around her form like a shield, and followed General Leia out of the Command Room, Poe bringing up the rear of the little group.

They must have looked quite a sight: the General Leia, a little girl wrapped up in a brown blanket, and Commander Dameron, traipsing through the halls. Although, they did get less stares than Perrim had gotten, what with her entourage of armed guards at the ready. It wasn't often that the secret Resistance base received unknown visitors of the captive sort, and so Perrim had presented a novel distraction.

The trio reached the heavily guarded entrance to Perrim's room in the medical bay, Delia shrinking back from the sight of the guard's weapons. Thankfully, General Organa motioned for them to lower the blasters, and turned to coax Delia through the door. The eleven-year-old inched nervously through the doorway, making sure to avoid eye contact with the guards. However, upon sighting her sleeping sister, a new energy filled her tiny body. She gasped, and let the blanket drop to the floor as she surged towards the bed, a sob escaping her.

"Althea!" The girl's tear filled voice filled the room as she clutched her sister's side.

Though still under sedatives, the presence of her sister must have woken Perrim. She shifted, and her green eyes, surveyed the room suspiciously as she tugged her sister closer to her. One of her hands, a scrape across the back of it, stroked Delia's small head, and she pressed a kiss to the blonde hair.

Poe shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to fit the image of the sisterly reunion into the mental jigsaw puzzle that was Althea Perrim. He wondered at the mercenary who murdered in cold blood, but also sheltered her sister from that painful knowledge, sending money home for her protection.

Why would Perrim insist on her sister being brought to the Resistance base, if she did not want Delia to know who she truly was? Could she even keep that secret?

 ** _ALTHEA_**

 _She's here. Delia's here._ It had been almost two years since she'd seen her sister last. Althea had known Delia was cared for by the farmer couple on Dantooine, but to hold Delia in her arms was a long missed comfort.

It occurred to Althea then that she had not actually thought through what she was going to tell Delia about her current situation. Delia still believed Althea to be a merchant. _Fuck, what am I going to say to her?_

Delia gazed up at Althea from beneath Althea's arm. "I missed you. You were gone for so long."

Althea's traitorous chest clenched at the sound of the girl's voice, and the evidence of her failure as a sister.

"I know, Dee, I know. I'm sorry I couldn't visit, but we're together now. We're safe, I promise. I won't leave you again." Althea knew she shouldn't be so cavalier about making unkeepable promises, but the look of joy on Delia's face scattered her caution to the wind.

She pulled Delia up to sit beside her, suppressing a wince at the protest in her side.

"Althea?"

"Yes, Dee?"

"Why are those men there, and why do they have guns?"

 _Fuck._ Althea's eyes met the General's, and Dameron's, imploring them not to speak. She tightened her grip around her sister's slim shoulders. "Well, I'm in a little bit of trouble with them. I did something to make them angry."

"What did you do?" Delia gasped.

"…I'll tell you some other time, Dee." She furrowed her brow at the General and Dameron, willing them to understand that _please_ , her baby sister did not, and could not know of her murderous exploits.

"Do you promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

The General stepped forward, having seemed unwilling to intrude upon the reunion beforehand. Althea knew she had a brother, perhaps there was some sympathy, some understanding of the things one does for family, and of the pain that comes from shattering the relationship with secrets and crimes revealed. Perhaps she would let Althea revel in her sister's fragile ignorance, if just for little while longer.

"Delia, you are going to live here, with your sister. There are a few other children at the base, whom you will join during the day. I'll take you to meet them now. Althea needs to rest."

Delia balked at the idea of separating from her only just-recovered sister, but Althea urged her on, and reluctantly she left with the General. Dameron remained behind.

 _So he can do something besides follow her around_ , Althea bitterly noted. She looked anywhere but his irritatingly soulful eyes. His brown and tan clothing, the ever-present leather jacket, finally settling on the little round droid that was rocking softly back and forth on the floor.

Dameron cleared his throat, and Althea looked up sharply in annoyance. "What?" She demanded.

His already stern demeanor hardened incrementally. "You should be healed enough to walk around the base. I have orders to take you to your quarters, and brief you on the first mission."

Althea rolled her eyes. "Sounds wonderful." She immediately tugged the needle from her wrist, ignoring Dameron's look of shock.

"The doctor really is supposed to do that."

"I'm sure she'll get over it."

Dameron rolled his eyes.

Althea tugged on the worn leather boots that had been placed under her bed for safekeeping, the fur lining causing them to resemble small rabbits hiding in a burrow. "Where are my weapons?"

Dameron snorted, causing the hairs on Althea's bristle even more than they were before. _Insufferable nerf herder,_ she mentally cursed the day he was born.

"You _are_ joking, right?" Dameron's raised eyebrows communicated an expression of vague amusement at her expense. "You think that the Resistance would let a known enemy walk around the base, armed?"

Before Althea could spit back an acerbic retort, or clock him over the head with the nearest blunt object (she definitely preferred the latter option), Dameron turned and stalked from the room, leaving Althea no choice but to follow him through the mazes of hallways. Nonetheless, the measured breaths and tight, striking footsteps made clear her infuriation. The air between her and the guards prickled with charge, and the thought of an impending fist fight nudged her heart into a quicker pace. Unfortunately, she knew that any physical assault on the Resistance's most prized pilot would not be welcomed. _I have to think of Delia._ She slowed her footsteps, hoping to focus her energies on controlling the motions of her body. The welcome side-effect was Dameron's annoyance at being made to wait for her and the six guards at every turn and corner.

"Can't you walk any faster?"

"Oh, my apologies. It's not as I was shot out of the sky two days ago, and brutally assaulted by an entire squadron of your pilots."

The Commander stopped short — Althea reacted quickly and cut off her steps, but the soldiers around her shuffled more awkwardly to a halt. Dameron sucked in a breath. _You've done it now, Althea._

Turning, Dameron knuckled his cheek, and through clenched teeth seethed, " _You_ were assaulted? If I may remind you, you were there to murder the entire fucking squadron."

Faced with this fuming man, Althea wished innerly for her blaster, or at least a slim knife. She did not like the odds of her, unarmed, against seven armed and extremely hostile soldiers. Bending her back leg slightly, she prepared to spring and —

— _Beep_. The diminutive spherical droid whistled, long and low, rolling in front of its master, and gently nudging his leg. The hostility trickled from Dameron's face as he regarded his droid. "Yeah, BB-8, I know. I know." Locking eyes with Althea through the raised arms of the guards and jabbing a finger at her, Dameron ordered, "Keep quiet and keep up." The Commander turned on his heel and striding forward, faster than the former pace.

Althea weighed her options, before settling on cooperation as the most fruitful course of action. She quickened her pace, smirking innerly at the shorter guard who practically needed to jog to remain with the group.

They turned a final corner. Althea was sure that the route had been made overly complicated in an effort to confuse her about the base's floor plan. The idiots had simply acquainted her even more with the layout. The concussion may have dampened her senses, but Althea was trained. Trained enough to note the paths taken through enemy territory. She felt almost insulted at Dameron's underestimation of her diabolical nature.

Dameron came to a halt outside of an unassuming grey door. He retrieved two black cards from his jacket pocket, wordlessly handing her one. Althea reached out slowly, and placed it into her pocket, while Dameron swiped his against the door.

The grey wall slid to the side to reveal sparse quarters: a thin bed, a nightstand, and a table with a chair.

"Your guards, myself, the General, and you have keys to this room. Any objects you can use as a weapon have been removed. The guards will be posted outside this room at all times when you are inside, and you'll have to answer regular check-ins. Go in and use the fresher, I'll come back in half an hour to brief you on the mission." He swallowed, as if forcing back a comment, before striding away, the ball squeaking and whistling as it struggled to keep up.

The tallest guard spoke for the first time. "Get inside. You have half an hour to get cleaned up." His voice was rough, the kind where hatred and duty conflict, making it clear that he would much rather she were anywhere but here.

His rifle jabbed at her back — Althea clicked her tongue in warning and her eyes glinted over her sharp shoulder, and warily prowled inside. The door slid silently shut behind her. The air was sharp and cold in her throat.

She felt distinctly that the General had outwitted her — a feat a few people could attest to. Bringing Delia into the bargain not only constituted Althea's payment, but ensured her cooperation along with her loyalty. If she resisted or fought on base, the Resistance could use Delia to subdue her. If she betrayed the Resistance to the First Order, Delia would be in danger. Any escape plan would have to include smuggling the girl out safely, complicating things immensely. Althea's usual efficiency and skill stemmed from her speed and ruthlessness. Delia was an obstacle to any usual method Althea might take in a situation like this. She was navigating uncharted territory. At least Delia was here, and not on some unidentified Resistance base. Here, Althea could delude herself into thinking that she had some measure of control over Delia's protection.

She entered the fresher, blinking at the stranger in the mirror. Tangled hair, blood and mud caked into it, bruised circles around her eyes and raw lips. Her fingers danced over the shadows on her right cheekbone, gingerly pressing to test the extent of the pain. She remembered the stares and whispered judgement of the people in the corridors. At the time she had blamed it solely on her entourage, but she reevaluated that assessment now. She was a ghost. A pale, sunken shadow, all sharp angles and cutting lines. _I haven't eaten in two days_ , she realized with a jolt.

She peeled away the layers of tattered clothing, at least, the ones that the good doctor had not already removed while Althea had been sedated. Her skin crawled at the thought of unknown, unwatched hands on her body.

The dirt washed away with the water in the fresher, black and red mixing together, diluting and diluting until the water was clear. Only then did Althea tear her eyes away from the floor, and turn to the meager ration of soap afforded her. Her hands brushed over her body, taking count of each crevice and crack, each curve and cut and bruise and bone. The warmth of the water bridled her anger, gentled her, until she felt only the exhaustion that comes after fighting and fearing for one's life.

Painfully, she forced her body out of the fresher and wrapped herself in a white towel, anticipating the bloodstains that would soon mark the surface.

Taking inventory of the quarters, she counted with savage pleasure the items she could use as a weapon, despite what Dameron had so proudly stated. The nightstand could be effective for clubbing, the towel for strangling. She could use the pillow to smother a guard, for kriff's sake, the spine of the chair could be removed to stab someone. Where the water had blunted the edges of her anger, the knowledge of these weapons sharpened it to a glinting point.

A uniform had been laid on the bed, folded with military precision. Her anger reared its ugly head, realizing a guard had entered the room while she had been in the fresher, and left evidence of his presence for her to find. But she breathed, and let the anger sharpen, and wait.

The uniform was clean, and stiffly pressed. Heavy brown slim pants, and a grey button-down shirt. She kept her boots, in favor of the proffered laced shoes. Instead, she knelt down and carefully removed the laces, coiled them tightly, and tucked them into the sleeves of her shirt. Two garrotes were better than nothing. She tucked the shoes into the shadows beneath the bed, hoping that inspections would pass it off as harmless. Somehow, she doubted that the guards would let even such an innocent infraction pass, but at least she was armed for time being.

The blinking clock above the desk told her that she had seven minutes left until Dameron's return. Most likely he would be obnoxiously punctual. The Commander was self-righteousness incarnate: a sanctimonious embodiment of everything Althea despised about the Resistance. Morally superior, and hostile to those who had to make hard choices to survive.

The breathless glide of the door startled Althea from her venomous musing. _Dameron doesn't even give me the courtesy of knocking._ She turned to see the pilot standing in the doorway, mirroring her glare.

"Dameron."

"Perrim."

 ** _POE_**

It was offensive, the way she stood there. Arms crossed, the cocked chin accusing him of intruding. She was the intruder. Her whole presence, wrong. He had not forgotten how she had nearly attacked him earlier when he had pointed out the truth of her actions to her, that her reason for being her was her own fault. Poe had scolded for her insults.

Perrim's whole demeanor was jagged, cutting any hand that neared it. And yet, the loving sister whom he had seen clutching Delia did not fit into this image. He was dealing with two different people.

Moving forward, Poe took the seat in the corner of the small room, leaving Althea to sit on the bed. He pointedly ignored her sarcastic remark of, "Take a seat, please."

He cleared his throat. "Your check in with the First Order contact is scheduled for ten days from now. You're going to attend that meeting, and confirm the success of your mission to …eliminate the Dagger squadron."

Perrim cut in. "I'll need their tracking devices."

"Excuse me?"

Perrim gave him a look that signaled exactly how she little she thought of his intelligence. "To confirm the mission's success, I collect the tracking devices from the ships of my targets, and give them to my contact. I'll need the trackers from the Dagger squadron's ships."

Poe made a note on his data tablet, resisting the urge to curl his lip at the crudeness, the coldness of the woman in front of him. He nodded once, a quick jerk of his head. "The meeting is on Anoat —"

"I _know_ where the meeting is. I fucking scheduled it myself. Do you have any new information for me?"

It was cruel of the General to assign Poe to the mercenary. She should have chosen a more forgiving man.

The silence that followed Perrim's outburst bristled. To Poe's surprise, Perrim broke first. "Where is Delia?"

"In her quarters," he replied.

"Her quarters?"

"Did you think she would be staying with you?" He was almost unhappy with how much he enjoyed lording her sister over her. "Delia is in the children's quarters. It's one of the most heavily guarded areas on the base."

"Where is it?"

"I can't tell you that. If you want to see her, request it from your guards, and Delia will be brought to you. The location of the children's quarters isn't revealed to mercenaries."

The growl that she tried and failed to suppress would have been comical if he hadn't known her capable of killing him.

In Poe, something wavered between shame and satisfaction. Satisfaction at Perrim's suffering, but shame in his enjoyment of it.

He cleared his throat. "Perrim, if I were you, I would make my peace with the idea of cooperating with us. You won't be able to make it out of here with Delia. And even if you could, there's no place safer for her than with the Resistance. The First Order will find her anywhere."

Poe could see how it pained her to accept his point. But she managed a tight nod, and he accepted that as all he would receive. He rose from the chair, and left the quarters without glancing back, only breathing easy once the door slid shut behind him, and he had heard the guards shift back into position.


	3. In Which Punches Fly

**Chapter 3 - In Which Punches Fly**

 ** _ALTHEA_**

It was a plot to destroy her. She was sure of it. The General must have choses these quarters _specifically_ to drive Althea insane. The rays of morning light sliced into the room at the absolutely most inconvenient angle, lancing into Althea's closed eyes, and causing a dull pain to throb in her already concussed head.

 _Fuck this base. Fuck the General. Fuck the sun._

Groaning slightly as she shifted onto her side, her eyes fluttered open.

She surveyed the room, taking note of the chair that had turned since she went to bed. Someone had been in her room while she slept. Forcing herself to swallow her anger, Althea padded to the fresher, bracing herself for the sight of her broken body in the mirror.

The bruises had deepened over night, and the bags under eyes seemed impossibly darker. She huffed at the miserable sight of herself. Gingerly, since she ached in the deepest recesses of her bones, she washed her face, and struggled out of the stiff white shirt she had slept in.

Here, where no one could see, Althea did not bother to repress the winces and whimpers that escaped her as the scalding water hit her injuries. Her head still throbbed, and the largest of the wounds reopened, the blood diluted with the water and flowing quickly.

 _I have to find Delia_. She had to be prepared to escape this place at any second, but she could never leave Delia behind.

Out of the shower, it was a vicious fight to put on and button the uniform. The sleep had settled into her body and curled up in her bones, making her movements slow and sluggish. Althea carefully tucked the garrotes into the space between her arm and her sleeve, patting them to reassure herself of their presence.

As she approached the nondescript slate door, she noticed the shadows shifting below it. The guards were becoming restless. Glancing at the time, she noticed it was 11 in the morning. _They must be hungry,_ she thought with a savage pleasure.

The door slid open, and she announced with a voice that was stronger than she felt, "Well, I am positively starved. Where is breakfast?"

None of the guards deigned to grant her a reply, but she was sure she felt the relief sag through the group. Falling into formation, Althea in the middle of the six guards, they marched through the halls, reaching the even larger, even more nondescript doors of the mess hall.

Despite herself, Althea felt sharply the comfort of knowing that there would likely be only a few people in the mess hall. It was so draining to be stared at, the gazes drawing bullet holes on her body.

Nevertheless, those few people who were still there fell silent as she walked in. Althea noted BB-8 rocking back and forth in the corner of the mess hall. She was willing to wager that that fucker Dameron was not far away.

The news of her presence must have washed through the base like a roaring river. The stares froze her stomach, the coldness of the room seeping through her.

Althea and her entourage approached the counter. The guards all heaped the portions onto their plate. Decidedly uncomfortable with the prospect of fighting for her life on a full, heavy stomach, Althea limited herself to only a small slice of bread, fruit, and water.

At the table, she had to force a laugh back into her throat as the guards seemed suddenly unsure of whether to stand and guard her as she ate, or to sit and eat alongside her. Eventually, three sat and ate, while the others waited, apparently taking shifts. Althea appreciated the compliment of her abilities.

The black-skinned guard who had pushed the butt of his blaster into her back last night was standing across from her line of sight. Althea scowled, absentmindedly wishing for the force so that she might choke him. Tall and burly, like an impassive storm trooper, the guard maintained the expression of an indifferent, opaque wall.

The low anger that had been simmering in her belly all morning and all night boiled. Althea shoved aside the voice that warned her to _think of Delia,_ and with a simpering, vicious smile, she asked, "What's your name?"

His brows lowered, and in an even voice he replied, "Lieutenant Kanto."

Before Althea could make another remark to try and appease the need for confrontation that was arising within her, a tray was slammed down on the table beside her. She saw olive toned forearms and clenched hands with veins protruding, and she turned her bruised face to glare directly into the furious eyes of her old friend, Lieutenant Mako.

Before she could open her mouth, Mako's hand tugged around her upper arm, and yanked her towards him. She suppressed the wince of pain that threatened to escape. She would not seem weak in front of this brute.

"I cannot believe they let you out of your cell, or even let you live." The words hissed out from between Mako's clenched teeth, his narrow eyes close to Althea's.

Althea snarled in response, matching his ire with every syllable. "I know, isn't it wonderful? I'm having such a nice time here."

The fist around her slender arm tightened, and Althea's shoulder tensed, preparing to kill the Lieutenant. Her hands twitched for the garrotes stashed safely in her shirtsleeves. She took note of her guards standing at the ready around the duo, hands on their blasters.

Althea knew they would step in as soon as she overpowered Mako, but would let Mako threaten and attack her as much as he wished. Nevertheless, she knew exactly how much damage she could inflict in the short amount of time she would have before the guards would detain her.

But, the niggling voice at the back of her mind returned with a vengeance. _If you step out of line, they will hurt Delia_. The ice dropped to her stomach, freezing the boiling anger of the morning.

Taking a deep breath, Althea prepared to defuse the confrontation, when Mako said it.

"I heard they have your sister on base." The words drifted from between his lips, swirling towards Althea, and washing the other thoughts from her mind. The expression fell from her face, and she waited, almost excitedly, for what he would say next.

Althea was almost glad when he said his next words. She had been itching for any excuse to kill someone. Mako must have thought he was frightening her when he said, "You step out of line, and Delia gets it."

The garrote was between her fingers before he finished the sentence, and she swung her arm at his temple. The sharp knuckle of her thumb hit the soft dip in his skull, and he stumbled to the side. Althea swiped his leg out from behind him, and as Mako turned in the air, she slipped the garrote around his neck, and pulled.

Althea straddled Mako's back, while he lay facedown on the mess hall floor, clawing desperately at the air behind his head, in a futile attempt to reach her. She felt hands grabbing her roughly, and she raced to tighten the slim garrote into a knot around Mako's infuriating neck. A thickly muscled arm around her waist finally lifted her off of Mako's back, and Althea let it, knowing the guards would struggle to untie the knot.

She felt herself being dragged across the hall, a blaster held to the back of her head. Althea did not struggle or resist, instead jogging along dutifully. She had achieved her goal, and she smiled inwardly at the sounds of the guards shouting to untie the knot from Mako's neck.

Glancing to the side, Althea was slightly surprised to see the outraged face of Poe Dameron. She had not known he was close to her table, but he must have approached while she was distracted by Mako's confrontation.

Althea heard the worried beeping of BB-8 as the spherical droid raced through the hall with the two.

Dameron slammed the doors of the mess hall open, and in the same motion he flung Althea forwards, and she stumbled into the opposite wall. When she whirled around, she was confronted with the nose of the blaster Dameron was aiming at her face.

BB-8 whistled lowly, to which Dameron responded, "It's okay, BB-8." He did not remove his glaringly brown eyes from Althea's green ones. Althea felt her heart race, the beats pressing against her aching ribs, as she realized how precarious her position was, and how precarious Delia's was.

 ** _POE_**

"Are you insane?!" The words leapt from his clenched jaw, the first he had spoken to the mercenary since the conversation in her quarters. "What the hell were you thinking? I told you that you have to start cooperating with us, if you want to live! Get that through your head! This is not some lawless tavern in the Outer Rim — this is the Resistance and you cannot just try and kill someone in the mess hall. I told you this yesterday! I told you that you had to start cooperating with us. You're here for the next three years, and you have to make your peace with that!"

Each word caused his tanned hands to tighten around the blaster, and he had to remind himself not to pull the trigger. He had to remind himself that for some reason, the General thought the Resistance needed this murderer.

Perrim did not react, only stared back into his face, unblinking. Her silence only stoked the fire burning in him.

"Do you not care about protecting your sister? Do you not care that the Resistance is protecting you, and her?"

Poe watched the threads of anger creep up Althea's face, her jaw tightening, her eyes narrowing. He waited for her reaction, as her nostrils flared. _She's surprisingly inept at maintaining her composure when her sister is mentioned_.

Poe had researched the mercenary these past few days, and come to learn that she was well-known and respected in the most disreputable circles in the galaxy. An invisible and efficient killer, Perrim had been described as emotionless and methodical.

He did not see that version of Perrim here before him. Whether it was the severe concussion or the presence of her little sister that was throwing her, the woman before him was unbalanced and hot tempered. Her uniform was rumpled and the collar ripped slightly, exposing a sharp collarbone, and dark bruises on her neck. Everything about her was jagged, and sharply edged. Poe got the sense that anything and anyone that touched Althea Perrim would be inevitably cut and broken.

He tried to reason with her. "Why would you attack Mako? That's just about the stupidest thing you could do. Half the people here are already arguing for you to be shipped to the First Order, imprisoned, or killed. The other half are probably going to as well, after that little stunt you pulled."

Poe legitimately did not understand or know why she had attacked the Lieutenant — he had run over to the fight almost immediate, but the guards had blocked his view of what Mako and Perrim were saying to each other. By the time he had gotten close enough to hear what they were saying, Perrim had been close to strangling Mako with what looked like a garrote. _Where the fuck had she gotten a garrote?_

Poe made a mental note to keep a closer eye on whatever weapons Perrim may get her murderous hands on.

She still was refusing to answer him, her nose curling at him with what seemed like disgust and contempt.

The silence that ensued what broken by BB-8. The little droid was always profoundly uncomfortable in tense situations, and chose this moment to communicate to Poe that Mako had threatened to kill Perrim's little sister.

Poe did not quite know how to respond to that. Something within him wavered between sympathy and understanding for Perrim's actions, and he suddenly wondered how he would act if everyone in the galaxy was an enemy, and every interaction was a threat.

At this point, the doors behind them swung open to reveal a very bedraggled Lieutenant Mako being supported by two of Perrim's guards, who turned the corner in the direction of the medical bay.

A stark, deep red ring stood out on Mako's neck, courtesy of Perrim's shoelace. A trail of blood leaked from his temple, where her knuckles and nails had apparently struck him. Poe sucked in a breath at the sight of the Lieutenant. Mako was unpleasant and difficult to get along with, even for Poe, who made friends with almost anyone, but the Lieutenant did not deserve to nearly be murdered in the mess hall by a stray mercenary.

The other four guards also swarmed out of the doorway, surround Perrim. They yanked her arms behind her back, cuffing her.

 _Incompetent idiots,_ Poe thought with disgust. They should never have let Mako approach Perrim. He needed this base to stop underestimating Perrim, or else someone was actually going to be killed. They were not dealing with a normal person, they were dealing with a cornered wild animal with its claws at the ready.

Perrim's guards, including Lieutenant Kanto, looked to Poe for instruction. He addressed Perrim. "You cannot garrote people on this base. Behave yourself."

To the guards, he said, "Take her to the briefing room. _Watch her._ If she attacks anyone else, I will personally have you court-martialed for gross incompetence." Poe turned on his heel, listening to the sound of Perrim being yanked along down the hallway.

He signaled for BB-8 to follow him, as he made his way down the hall towards the General's office. The little droid rolled along dutifully, whirring and whistling to communicate its concern.

"I know, BB-8. She's dangerous."

BB-8 however insisted that he was worried for Perrim's safety on the base, and whether someone may attack her or Delia.

Poe looked down at the droid incredulously, but the droid insisted that Perrim had not been the one to begin the confrontation, and that Mako had seriously provoked her. Poe shook his head, and continued down the hallway at a faster pace.

The pair reached the doors of General Leia's office. He knocked once, twice, until the doors slid open, revealing a very exasperated General. She shook her head at him, motioning him and the droid inside.

"Well, Commander. I hear that we had quite the eventful lunch today. I seem to recall asking you to keep her in line, or am I mistaken?"

Abashed, Poe glanced to the side, his jaw tightening. "Yes, Commander, you did tell me to do that. I apologize. I should have stopped the fight earlier."

General Leia clicked her tongue, the noise harsh and sharp in Poe's ear.

She turned, and moved around her desk, pulling out the chair and sinking into it. She clasped her hands on the desk in front of her, her face serious as she addressed Poe. "She's on edge, Dameron. Everyone and everything is a threat, and an enemy. We cannot have her confront, or be confronted by, anyone so openly hostile as Lieutenant Mako." The General smiled slightly. "Of all people, however, I am glad that it was Mako. He needed a good beating to wipe some of that unpleasantness off of him. How badly did she hurt him?"

Poe winced at the memory of Mako being practically carried out of the mess hall, while Perrim was only slightly disheveled. "Pretty badly. She managed to turn her shoelace into a garrote."

The General seemed almost impressed, and if he didn't know better, Poe would think that she was trying not to laugh. "Well, make sure she does not have any more shoelaces at her disposal."

"Yes, General."

"And tell Kanto to talk to her. We need her to begin cooperating with us, and assimilating to the base. After all, she is going to be here for the next three years."

"Yes, General."

"Good. Now, I want to discuss the parameters of a small mission that I am sending you and Perrim on."

Poe was not sure he had heard right. He bristled, and his shoulders tensed. "A mission? Both of us?"

The General sighed. "Something about Althea Perrim has you questioning my decisions quite a bit, Commander. Yes, I am sending you on a mission with Perrim. It's quick and simple. Just a supply run to meet with a smuggler on Jakku. I need someone to see her in the field. So far we only have second-hand information, but before I can send her to the meeting on Anoat, I want your opinion of her capabilities. Understood?"

Resigned, Poe nodded, and his stance relaxed. "Yes, General."

"Good. You will leave in two days, and take a small cruiser. The meeting is with Unkar Plutt on Jakku, to pick up a shipment of weapons. I would not normally send someone of your rank to pick up supplies, but as I said, I need someone to tell me how Perrim is in the field. I trust your judgement on this."

His skepticism abated. "I understand, General. I assume I will be briefing Perrim?"

The General nodded her assent, and Poe turned to leave. Before he reached the gray doors, however, the General called, "Commander, I understand how opposed to this plan you are. I appreciate your cooperation."

Looking over the tan fabric of the uniform on his shoulder, Poe nodded, and smiled slightly. "Thank you."

 ** _ALTHEA_**

Althea was not a person usually frightened of repercussions. Even when she had been a little girl, she had dutifully accepted whatever punishments her parents had doled out for her antics, which usually consisted of escaping school to go and play with the animals on the farm. Later, when Alsar had been training her after she had first proven herself to him, she had endured the consequences of failing him. She had come to him alone, eleven years old and starving, knowing only how to aim a blaster and pull the trigger. Alsar had been skeptical, then delighted at the ways her innocent face removed any suspicion, and how her small size made her impossible to catch. After that first contract, he had taken her on as an "apprentice," and taught her almost everything she knew. He had been harsh, but effective, and she had never shied away from the punishments, enduring everything with a stoic demeanor.

But Delia had never been a part of the equation. No one had ever even known about Althea's sister — even Alsar had not known that every penny of her apprentice's salary went towards the nice farmer and his wife who had taken Delia in, and pretended she was their own.

Now, Delia shadowed over every move Althea made, the fear of losing the sole person who had any love for Althea. The fear of harm coming to the person in the galaxy who least deserved to suffer.

Althea replayed the scene from the mess hall in her mind. She should have been calmer, more controlled. She should not have attacked Mako so brutally. If anything, she should have ignored him, or at least not tried to kill him. A swift slap might have sufficed.

The lights were too bright, and the ringing that had nagged her ears these past few days came to a head. She rubbed at her temples, suddenly weary with the ache of her injuries, and the lack of sleep. The last time she had been so badly injured was after Hux had nearly killed her on the First Order base.

The guards still aimed their blasters at her, seemingly unwilling to relive the incident from the mess hall.

The doors slid open, almost silently. In her distracted state, Althea would not have noticed had the lights not brightened with the opening, causing her injured head to pound even more.

She blinked at the figure that strode in. It was Dameron, and he was apparently slightly less furious than he had been outside of the mess hall.

Dameron signaled to Althea's guards to lower their blasters. She shifted in her seat, unsure of what Dameron would do, or say. She wished the guards had not searched her and found the second garrote.

The commander stood silently across from her, his arms crossed and brows lowered, surveying her.

Althea had never been able to bear the silence. "What?" She spat.

"I am here to brief you on your mission." Dameron's clear voice was even, steady. Althea suspected he was making an effort not to be so easily infuriated by her. Unfortunately for him, this only made Althea want to act more insufferably.

"I thought we covered everything yesterday. The mission is on Anoat, in a week and a half—"

Dameron broke in. "New mission. Two days. You and I are going on a supply run to Jakku."

Althea let out a breath. "You must be joking. A supply run? What are you, a fresh recruit."

She could sense the effort he was making not to respond to her caustic words. His next words were carefully measured. "We need to see how you act in the field. It is a simple meeting with a smuggler. I, and the General, need to know that you can cooperate on a mission."

Biting back a retort, Althea nodded. What else could she do?

She had expected Dameron to leave, but he remained in front of her. Her head pounded again. "Perrim. You have to learn to cooperate. If this mission does not go well, the deal with the Resistance is off. Delia will not have our protection. I need you to understand that."

Evenly, she replied, "I understand." She fought against the pain in her head to hold his gaze. "It will go well."

Apparently satisfied, Dameron nodded. He turned to Kanto, the largest and most impassive of the guards. He was also the only one who had not visibly reacted to any of Althea's insults or threats.

"Take her to the med bay. Have Kalonia take another look at her head." Dameron's voice swam in her ears, and she felt herself slump forward, an arm quickly stopping her from falling to the cold floor. "Kriff, how badly is she concussed?"

The lights were too bright, flashing in her eyes. Her sight of Dameron's face before her own swam in and out of focus. Before the strands of darkness tugging at the edge of her vision could pull her under, she forced out, "I need to see Delia."


	4. In Which Mercenaries and Sisters Speak

**_ALTHEA_**

Althea sensed Delia before she heard her. The atmosphere of the room, so tense and arrested these past few days, had dissipated, like clouds after a storm. Delia had a way of doing that, of gentling the world around her. Althea only tended to put everyone on edge. On a good day, she only mildly infuriated the entire galaxy.

Everything she heard and felt — the too bright lights, the too rough pillow against her cheek, the too painful pounding in her head — only made Althea clench her eyes shut for tightly. _Whatever is in their painkillers is fucking useless_ , she thought, wincing as another wave of nausea wrenched through her, and she failed to hold back a small groan.

"You're awake!" Delia broke the affable silence that had permeated the room. Within a moment, the cot shifted under the weight of Althea's little sister, who had launched herself into her sister's arms.

Another groan slipped past Althea's traitorous mouth, but she tightened her grip on her sister nonetheless and slowly opened her eyes. Adjusting to the lights that were flickering through her vision, Althea could make out the auburn curls of Delia's head, which was currently buried against Althea's shoulder.

"Hey, Dee," Althea rasped, her throat dry, "Everything is alright. Look, I'm perfectly fine."

Delia raised her head. In a small voice she said, "I know, but I missed you. I thought that since we were staying in the same place now, I'd get to see you more. But I only saw you once yesterday. And you were gone for almost a year before that."

Althea sighed, stroking Delia's hair away from her face, ignoring the pounding in her head for the time being. "I know, and I'm sorry. You will see more of me, I was just getting settled in yesterday."

Delia nodded, but Althea could tell she was only slightly mollified.

Another thought crossed Althea's mind. In a hesitant voice, she asked, "Delia, do you understand why you can't stay in my room?"

Frowning, Delia replied, "Leia said it's safer, that all the children are kept together."

 _Leia?_ Althea marveled at Delia's ability to ingratiate herself with anyone and anything. She would wager that Delia could charm a Hutt if she smiled that toothy little smile at him. "That's right. I wish you could stay in my room, but it's not safe for you there. But we will see each other very often. I promise, Dee."

She tightened her grip on her sister's small hand, trying to convey her meaning, which she never could quite manage with words.

Forcing a smile which ended up as more of a grimace, Althea shifted so she was sitting up straight, her back against the wall. "How long was I out?" She aimed the question at Lieutenant Kanto, whose impassive mien was firmly in place.

Delia answered, before Kanto had the chance. "Poe came and got me from the children's quarters three hours ago! He said you'd want to see me, so I've been waiting here. I made friends with Kanto while you were unconscious." She chattered excitedly.

It worried Althea that Delia seemed so undisturbed by the idea of her sister being unconscious, but it worried her more that Delia considered Kanto a friend. Althea knew that Delia could be friendly with almost anyone, but she was wary of her sister and her prison guard being friends. Kanto might exploit that.

She raised an eyebrow at Kanto, who did not even have the decency to look chagrined. Althea's eyes narrowed as she replied, "Did you now?" Her voice was flat, unemotional.

Kanto's hand drifted towards his blaster — a warning, aimed at her.

Delia was unconcerned. She barreled on. "And I made friends with Poe, too. He's so funny! He told me all about flying, and I got to play with BB-8!"

The smile Althea gifted her sister was hollow, brittle, the way her soul had felt in the four days she had spent here. It seemed like every time that Althea had managed to sweep the sharp edged pieces of her life together, some new gust of wind came and scattered them farther than they had been before. She didn't need Delia getting attached to anyone, anything, on this god-forsaken Resistance base. And she definitely didn't need anyone being able to hold Delia against her more than they already could.

It seemed to occur to Delia at this point that her sister was not as enthusiastic about her newfound friends as she had expected. The toothy smile drifted from her face, and Althea felt her own heart break just a bit more.

Before any more tension could upturn the room, Dr. Kalonia strode in, the disapproval lining her face.

Althea gently pushed Delia off the cot, and towards the small sofa she had been sitting on.

The doctor stopped at the foot of Althea's cot. Crossing her arms, and frowning at the young woman, she said, "Perrim, I know that you've never been to a doctor before, but generally, attacking a Lieutenant while you're severely injured is not classified as _resting_."

Before Althea could let loose any number of acerbic remarks that would definitely cause her more trouble, Delia gasped. "You attacked Lieutenant Mako? He's the one who came and brought me here!" Delia looked at her sister accusingly.

Wincing, and innerly cursing Dr. Kalonia (who at least looked slightly sheepish), Althea stared down her sister, face stern and finger pointing. "The Lieutenant was being rude, Delia. But still, fighting is bad. Don't do it."

Kanto snorted, the sound startling Althea, who hadn't believed him capable of any sort of expression. Her eyes turned on him, and he stared back, as if daring her to question his reaction.

Dr. Kalonia broke the silence. "Perrim, your injuries need to heal. Fighting in the mess hall will only land you back in the infirmary. Your injuries, especially your concussion, were severe, and you are supposed to be resting."

Althea made a fist, her nails digging into her palm. Her green eyes gazed unblinkingly back at the doctor. "Like I said, he was being rude."

The doctor glanced down at her datapad, and made a small note. "I'm giving you a supply of pain killers, Perrim. Try not to get into any more trouble than you're already in. It's honestly a waste of time for the both of us."

Althea's lip curled. "Thanks," she snarled, swiping her hand out to snatch the small bottle of pills the doctor had held out to her.

Althea pretended not to see Delia flinch at her action.

Althea also pretended not to see Kanto place a comforting hand on Delia's shoulder, though she wished she could smack it off.

The doctor said, "Perrim, you also need to eat something. You've been here for four days, and lunch today was the first time you ate, along with the first IV drip. Even then, you knocked over half the food when you punched Mako. Honestly, I don't know how you've made it this long without eating anything."

 _Practice_ , Althea wanted to say, but wisely held her tongue. While Dr. Kalonia spoke, an attendant droid rolled in balancing a tray of food — Althea's mouth watered at the smell.

Buttered toast, a tall glass of water, fruit she didn't recognize. Althea knew the various IV's she had been attached to these past few days would have given her some nourishment, but her stomach felt empty in a way it hadn't since before she met Alsar. Taking the tray onto her lap, she drained the glass of water, relishing the coolness that ran over her dry throat.

"What do we say?" Delia's voice, half-teasing, half-serious, caught Althea's attention.

Althea stared at her sister, confused. A half smile crept onto her face. "What?"

Fully serious now, Delia said, "You always said we had to thank people when they gave us something. You said manners are important."

A full smile was now on Althea's face. The first true one in a long time. It was not the razor smile that too often sliced through her cheeks, it was softer. She looked at the doctor again, and half-laughing, said, "Thank you."

She tried not to let the smile fade too quickly when she saw Kanto ruffle Delia's hair in the corner of her vision.

Dr. Kalonia seemed unsure as to what to do. She gave a jerky sort of nod, and swiftly left the room. The normally composed woman's discomfort almost made Althea want to laugh.

That feeling swiftly disappeared when she caught sight of Dameron's annoyingly tousled hair at the back of the med bay, heading towards her cot.

 ** _POE_**

When Kalonia had sent the comm that the mercenary was awake, he had steeled himself for their next encounter. Perrim was exhausting to be around, her whole demeanor constantly on the offensive, lashing out with the next preemptive strike. _It's a miracle someone doesn't clock her over the head every single day,_ he thought.

BB-8 rolled along next to him, dutiful as ever, and beeping with excitement at seeing the little girl again. Poe had never met two relatives who were such polar opposites as Althea and Delia Perrim. The former was as prickly as a Jungle Rancor, and the latter as sweet as a Bantha. Delia had questioned him endlessly about his adventures as a pilot, and BB-8 had taken an instant liking to her.

Poe braced himself as he entered the room, passing by the five guards stationed outside. Only Kanto was inside, sitting next to Delia on the sofa. Poe's eyes fell upon Perrim's slight figure, sitting upright on the cot, a tray of food in her hands.

Before he could say anything to the mercenary, BB-8 and Delia let out identical squeals of delight at seeing each other again.

"BB!" Delia said, laughter filling her voice.

The astromech beeped and whistled in reply, whirring towards Delia, who was seated next to an uncharacteristically pleasant looking Lieutenant Kanto. _Is he smiling?_ Poe thought, incredulous. _The fucker never smiles._

Much to Poe's displeasure, Perrim's voice interrupted. "Dameron. What do you want?"

The commander braced himself innerly. "I'm here to ask Dr. Kalonia if you're alright to go on the… picnic with me. In a day and a half." He nearly said "mission," before he remembered that there was an eleven year old in the room who wasn't supposed to know much the Resistance or her sister's exploits.

Delia gasped. "You're going on a picnic?"

Perrim stared at Poe, the amusement growing on her face. Eyes narrowing, she said, "Apparently."

Even fucking Kanto's grinned. Only a little bit, though.

Poe focused on Delia, the only who he felt sure wouldn't mock him. "Yes, your sister and I are going on a picnic."

He should have known that she'd say, "Can I come?"

Not wanting to disappoint her, he was saved by Perrim, from whom all amusement seemed to have fled. The mercenary bluntly said, "No. You can't come, Delia. You can't ever leave this base, do you understand me?"

Poe wanted to smack Perrim for wiping the smile off her little sister's face so harshly, but he was partly to blame for his poor choice of words.

"Why can't I leave?" Delia said, in a small but indignant voice.

"It's not safe," Perrim said.

"Well, when are you leaving?"

Perrim glanced at Poe, questioning.

The commander turned to the little girl, BB-8 at her feet which dangled off the edge of the sofa. "Your sister and I are leaving in a day and a half, and we'll be back two days from then. Don't worry, Delia, you won't even know she's gone."

Delia nodded, but it was resigned, subdued. Perrim was staring resolutely at the tray of food in her lap. Kanto had stopped smiling, but to be honest, Poe wasn't sure that he had ever been smiling in the first place.

Thankfully, the strident footsteps of Dr. Kalonia broke the tension in the room. "Commander Dameron," she said, "What can I do for you?"

"I need an update on Perrim's condition. Can she travel in a day and a half?"

Perrim looked annoyed at being spoken over, but Poe didn't care. It would do her good to learn her place here in the Resistance.

Dr. Kalonia perused the data pad, and nodded. "The concussion is my main concern as of now, but I'd say that a day and a half should be enough to get you back on your feet. As long as you keep using the painkillers, and don't get into anymore mess hall brawls."

Poe almost snorted at that.

 ** _ALTHEA_**

Dameron had left almost immediately after the doctor had given her prognosis. With BB-8 and Dameron both gone, Delia had said that she wanted to go back to her room, so Lieutenant Kanto had taken her back.

Apparently five guards were enough to handle Althea for twenty minutes. Althea hadn't meant to react like that to Delia's excited request, but she also had to nip in the bud any ideas Delia might have about wanting to leave the base. Even though she was a thousand times safer with the Resistance than she was on Dantooine with the First Order looking for her, any place outside of the base was unacceptable.

Althea really should get used to the thought of Delia hating her, along with everyone else in the world.

Before she could fall any further into the depths of self-pity, the stern and unpleasant face of Lieutenant Kanto walked back into the small room. "It's time to go back," he said.

"Fine." The snarl was barely contained, memories of the adoring way Delia had looked at him clouding Althea's already bruised mind. For the second time in two days, she yanked the needle out of her hand, and swung her legs down from the bed. Althea expected a dizzying sensation as she jumped to her feet, but apparently the doctor's medications had worked a wonder. She felt fine, thankfully, given that she had to accompany that fucking Commander on a mission in a day and a half.

Althea had no illusions about the mission — the General and Dameron wanted to see her in action, on a mission, see if she could cooperate without tearing out someone's larynx and shoving it unceremoniously down their throat. She decided that for Delia, for her little sister's continued safety on this base, she could definitely refrain from larynx-tearing.

The guards fell into step around her, marching her towards her drab grey room. Before the door could slide closed behind her, Kanto cleared his throat.

Althea turned, an unimpressed eyebrow raised, and placed a slender, bruised hand on the door frame to keep it from closing.

Kanto looked back at the mercenary steadily. "Delia is a sweet girl. She could do well here." The implication was clear: _Don't fuck this up for her._

Althea nodded tightly, and removed her hand. The door slid closed.

The next day passed in dreary monotony. Delia apparently was refusing to see her, and Althea really couldn't blame her. Tact had never been her strong suit (she preferred firing a blaster to mincing her words), and neither the General nor the illustrious Commander Dameron deigned to see her. Althea was itching to hit something, but unfortunately none of her guards had done something that would warrant a beating, and the pleasant presence of Lieutenant Mako was conspicuously absent. The day was entirely without incident.

An insistent knocking, before dawn, woke her the following morning, six hours before Althea would have to board a small shuttle with Dameron, and somehow manage not to kill him in the enclosed space. Groggy, she shuffled to the doorway, fingers running absent-mindedly through her hair.

Althea wouldn't say she gaped at the sight before her, it was more of a controlled look of surprise.

Delia stood in front of her, holding the hand of Lieutenant Kanto, who in turn was holding a small stuffed Bantha.

"Poe said that I should say goodbye to you, since you're leaving today." Delia looked up at her sister a little defiantly, the phrasing making clear that yes, she was still angry, but yes, she still loved her sister.

"…Thank you. I mean, yes, we're leaving today, but only for a little bit. But still, I'm glad you came to say goodbye. And I'm sorry I snapped at you." Althea usually didn't stutter, but Delia made her uncharacteristically nervous. Delia had Althea wrapped around her finger.

"Be careful."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Althea realized she hadn't hugged her sister since that first day. She bent down, and carefully drew her sister's small body into her arms, the motion a stutter, almost awkward, unsure. She relaxed when Delia did, when Delia released Kanto's hand and put her arms around Althea. "I'll come back, soon, Delia, it won't be as long as the other times. It won't ever be again," she said, quietly, whispering into Delia's hair.

A small sob went through Delia's body, the noise not quite a whimper but not just a sigh. "Do you promise?" she said.

"I promise. I promise." She loosened her grip on her sister, the embrace dredging up the many other tearful goodbyes they had shared, always on Dantooine, always on the rickety porch of the farmer and his wife, the dust stinging their eyes (Althea never could admit to crying), and the wind whipping their hair around. She stroked Delia's straw colored hair. No wind now. "It's too early for you to be awake, you should get some more rest. Lieutenant Kanto can take you back to bed, okay?"

"Can't you take me? I want you to tuck me in," Delia said, a little pleadingly, her eleven year old resurfacing.

Althea wanted to scream. "I'm sorry, Delia, I can't. I can't go to the children's quarters."

"Why not?"

The look in Delia's morning-forest eyes could have killed her. "I… did something. I told you, Delia, I'm in trouble with them, but I— I can't tell you. Maybe soon, but it has to be this way, okay?" she said, and her heart tore a little with each little shuffling step that Delia took away from her and towards Kanto.

Her little sister only nodded, and took Lieutenant Kanto's hand, reaching up with the other to hold the stuffed Bantha.

"Goodbye," she said.

"Goodbye."

Later that morning, she dressed in the flight suit that had been laid out for her the previous evening. The orange material and white vest made her grit her teeth. It was a visual insult to her complexion. Orange and blond did not mix. Unfortunately, she did realize that the vivid color would probably pair nicely with Dameron's strikingly olive skin, dark hair, and frustratingly piercing eyes.

Althea's entourage accompanied her to the mess hall, where she kept her head down and her eyes on her food, wolfing down a quick meal and studiously ignoring the hateful glances aimed at her from seemingly everyone in the hall.

 _Don't they have anything better to do than be smug and uptight? Fuckers._ This is why she loathed the Resistance: their inability to get their swollen heads out of their own morally superior asses and get over the fact that not everyone was a fucking saint. She'd never met a more irritatingly self-righteous group of people in her life, and Dameron was the worst of them all.

And now she'd be stuck in a small, enclosed space with him for about two days, and she wasn't even allowed to murder him.

In the hangar, her guards seemed to relax with the openness of the space and the fact that there were relatively few people around. Besides Althea's dramatic arrival and exciting presence, it had apparently been a quiet time for the Resistance, with few First Order attacks to speak of. The mood was buoyant, and the sun shone in from the opposite side of the hangar. The tight circle Kanto and the others had formed around Althea loosened, their footsteps drifting away a little as if they didn't want her foul presence to besmirch the atmosphere of the place.

Althea couldn't find it in herself to mind, enjoying the feeling of a little air around her as she walked. One guard had even left her enough space to reach up and stroke the nose of an X-Wing as they passed by, her fingers gently breezing over the smooth metal of the plane. A small smile snuck itself onto her face, and she felt the tightness, the tension that had settled itself deep into her bones days ago lift, if only a little.

The group stopped, the movement less synchronized than it had been the past few days. They were standing in front of a small cruiser, nondescript and easily one of the least noticeable ships she had seen in her life. It was so generic that she couldn't even recognize its make. It was perfect. No one would remember them.

"Glad to see you're on time!" A voice drifted across the hangar, the words provoking, but Althea thought she detected a little hint of teasing in them. Unsure, she chose to ignore the comment.

Instead, she studied the Commander who was striding purposefully towards her and her entourage. With a small twinge of annoyance she noted that the vibrant color of the flight suit did indeed suit his complexion very well. Too well. It was rude of him to look like that. "Well," she said, "Look who picked the same outfit as me. One of us is going to have to change."

To her surprise and confusion, Dameron almost… snorted? She hadn't expected the man to have a sense of humor, let alone find anything she said funny. She chose to question. "Commander Dameron, was that a laugh?" She exaggerated the shock in her voice, lacing it with biting sarcasm.

He rolled his eyes, all humor gone. "Get on the ship."

 _Fucker._ At least she'd be without her guards for a few days.


End file.
